Kiss
by ThenWhenWeRetire
Summary: One-shot, mild J/J slash. Based on the 2000 movie. The kiss.


JCS 2000 movie. Honestly there were very few moments about the 2000 movie I liked… the kiss was one of them.

A/N: Wrote & posted all in one day, so apologies for any typos.

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"Judas!" I can see his hands – flailing but open. He's struggling, but he's not trying to hurt those soldiers or even to get away from them. He's just trying to reach for me, and he's screaming my name. I'm just staring at him. He doesn't even sound angry. He sounds… desperate. As if he thinks I can _save_ him. As if he doesn't know whose fault it is that-

"No!" I jump forward; he's doubled up because someone has just slammed a nightstick into his stomach. "Stop it, let go – let go of him!"

I'm fighting now, til it's _me_ they start beating, but that's all right, I don't care. I can take it; I'm tough like that. Not him though, he's wiping his mouth and looking shocked to see his hand come away red. We stare at each other, me on the ground with someone's knee digging into my neck and him held with his shoulders wrenched back, too far back. Already I can't bear it.

I thought I knew what I was doing. I knew he was going to get roughed up tonight; I knew I'd be sitting for the next week holding ice over his eye, reassuring him, maybe helping bandage a cracked rib or two. I was ready for that.

What I was _not_ ready for was soldiers in full dress standing at attention and holding him between them, looking for all the world like they're going to arrest him. Like there could be more to this evening than just a good scare and a boot out of town. This is all news to me, and suddenly it's important for him to know it. "No-… Jesus please, listen, I didn't…"

He winces as somebody jerks him up by the hair. "I did," he says, breathless. "Judas you must understand, it's n-_uh_" This time it's a closed fist to the gut that shuts him up. I'm thrashing again – my having to watch was never part of the deal! – but before I can make any progress he's got enough air back to speak. "_Stop_," he orders, and amazingly they do. "Let him go – he's done his part; he's finished here."

It's silent now except for the buzzing in my ears. They let me stand and I take a step closer to him. They don't release him, so no matter how much he might hate me right now, he can't stop me from cupping his face with both hands and pressing my forehead to his. "Jesus…"

After all this time you'd think I'm used to Jesus pulling miracles out of the air, but tonight he manages once more to shock me.

"Judas." Right away I can hear it in his voice: I know he knows everything I've tried to keep hidden from him, everything I knew he wouldn't want to hear from me, everything I was afraid to even wish for. "Of course I knew," he whispers, when I gasp. "Judas, please: do it, in friendship and love, or else…" He sounds a little choked himself, even after he swallows. "Or else betrayal will be the only kiss I ever know."

He talks as if he's about to _die_… and suddenly I believe that he is. I'm blubbering like a baby, trying to say his name but I can't even manage the two measly syllables.

My hands are wet and I realize _he's_ crying, too. That gets me moving, all right. "No," I say, wiping his cheeks and leaning in to kiss his closed eyes. "No, don't. Listen-"

He still doesn't look. "Do it," is all he says, and it's not an order, it's a plea.

His lips are parted, trembling… bleeding, too, which I make worse by sucking fiercely at the cut.

I can't breathe. I'm _kissing_ him, I'm kissing Jesus and I hardly even know how I started. He's moaning into my mouth, tilting his head, offering.

I'm kissing Jesus. He obviously doesn't know what he's doing, and for all my experience, suddenly neither do I. I lock with him clumsily for a moment, but then I taste our tears and what I need to do is I need to worship his mouth, every inch of it top to bottom and left to right. I lick and suck at his lips, memorizing his taste and his breath and every detail of him, still crying because now I know that this is going to be it.

He's reciprocating, kissing back when I let him, his eyes mostly shut and his breathing harsh. I'm still holding his face, but one hand has slipped around back to get lost in his hair now, and I try to pull him closer.

I can feel his shoulders tense, just a moment, and then the soldiers nudge each other and shrug and let go of him.

Immediately both of his hands are on me, on my neck and shoulders and hair, as if he's memorizing me, too. As if he thinks he will _want_ to remember.

I can't bear it and I feel all my strength go. Jesus is stronger than he looks, though, and when my knees go weak he guides me to the ground, gently, holding me up even as he keeps kissing me. And it _is_ him kissing me now, not the other way around. It's _his_ lips moving against mine… _his_ teeth giving that long painful pinch… _his_ fingers skimming over my jaw.

Under his mouth and his hands I revive a little; I grab him back and I give as good as I get. For a while we are fully entwined, my arms tight around him, his nails blooding my neck as his tongue presses so deep I think it means to move in with me…

But then I feel a yank. Hands that are not soft, not loving, not Jesus. The soldiers are pulling us apart and we're both fighting it. Him silently, me wailing _no_ but for one precious instant we twist til our faces can meet again, lips crushed together far too briefly. I see his eyes for just a moment; then someone hits me hard and everything goes grey.

When I come to I'm lying on the ground. My face is smeared with Jesus's blood, his tears… his taste…

But it's already drying up. The sun is starting to rise. I don't know yet what this day's got in store, but I seriously doubt I am going to like it.

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The End.

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